In the silence of his cell, he could hear a smothered sound of thunder and rain pouring against the outside wall. He always thought the rain was a pain in the ass; it was always cold and damp and he hated the feeling of wet clothes against his skin, but the rain did bring back another memory; one that would hardly serve him well in solitary.
Rain poured heavily outside the Atkins’ kitchen window. It was the kind of weather that made studying for final exams easier; the sunshine would have inspired Deni to be outside, but instead he sat across the table from Heather studying for their history final.
The curious thing that struck Deni in his study was how the American history books skimmed past the atrocities of the Trail of Tears and Slavery, but heralded the explorers and conquerors that discovered America. No one really cared what happened to all the indigenous people already living there. These people gave their sweat and their blood to bring riches and glories to a conqueror of a distant land.
And now the American irony is to close the lid of the great melting pot. All those who came from other lands to build their fortunes at the native’s expense are now being shut out. These conquerors came, they took and now they don’t want anybody else to reap the wealth. Deni sighed and then rested his chin on his palm as he turned the page of his history book. His eyes were getting tired and his brain was on the verge of capacity.
Heather rose from her chair and walked into the kitchen to get more iced tea for them. When she returned and sat back on her chair she said casually, “Oh, my parents are not going to be home until late, so if you want we can order a pizza or something for dinner.”
“That’s cool,” replied Deni.
Simultaneously Deni and Heather looked up at each other and a smile crossed both their faces; it was obvious they had the same thing on their mind.
“You know, I just realized I have been so rude,” said Heather. “I don’t believe I have given you a full tour of our house.”
“No, I don’t believe you have,” he replied with a wide grin.
Heather stood from her seat and reached her hand out to Deni. He took her hand and allowed her to guide him through the house. “This of course is the living room which you already know, the downstairs bathroom which I believe you are acquainted,” she said and then led him up the stairs. “My parents’ room, Jess’ room, upstairs bathroom and this is my room.”
Deni stepped inside Heather’s bedroom. It was for the most part exactly how he imagined – sports and academic trophies on a bookshelf, framed pictures of friends, including many of him. Her bed was simple and modest—a white bedspread with a colorful, diamond patterned crochet throw blanket on top.
He smiled seeing a small stuffed bear placed at her pillow. Placing his hands on her hips, he whispered in her ear, “I would not have anticipated you were the type of girl who has stuffed animals on her bed.”
Heather laughed and stepped away from him. She crawled onto her bed and set her stuffed bear on the floor faced down. “There, does that make you more comfortable?”
Deni followed her onto the bed. “Absolutely, you don’t know how unnerving it is to perform with plastic googly eyes staring at you.” He lay down on top of her and kissed her face and lips.
She ran her fingers through his hair. “I’ve never done this before, so don’t be disappointed if I’m not any good.”
He lifted himself and gazed down at her. She didn’t need to tell him; he knew. “Don’t be nervous,” he said, “the pressure is completely on me.”
“Yeah, you’re right; it is,” she teased. “If you suck, I could be turned off from sex forever.”
“Do you want to do this or not?” he joked.
She laughed. “I do; you know I do, so stop messing around and fuck me.”
This certainly wasn’t his first time, but when he looked down at her he was more nervous than he was the first time. He didn’t want to hurt her, or disappoint her. Deni couldn’t believe this was one of his most terrifying moments of his life, to make love to a girl he actually cared for.
They were both hesitant, fully knowing that this moment would forever change their friendship and relationship. Heather sat up, removed her t-shirt and bra and then lay back down on the pillow. Deni admired her for a moment and then took off his shirt. He leaned over and kissed her face, neck and breasts.
Heather wrapped her arms tightly around his shoulders and whispered in his ear, “This is real nice, but let’s get on with it.”
“What’s your rush?” he whispered back to her.
She looked him in the eyes. “The anticipation is killing me.”
Deni laughed. “Yes, ma’am!”
He removed her shorts and underwear and then took of his pants. Lying on top of her, he whispered in her ear, “Close your eyes.”
“Why?”
“‘Cause you need to relax.”
Heather clung to him with her eyes tightly closed.
“Relax,” he said softly as he rubbed himself against her.
She moaned and Deni felt the tension in her body ease. The moment he entered her, she dug her finger nails into his shoulder and he watched as she arched her head and her blue eyes rolled back.
A flash of pinkish lightning brightened Deni’s cell. He reached into his pants and slid his hand down between his legs. He always hated to do it to Heather; she was his best friend. He always felt he was disrespecting her in some way, but she was the one girl he thought of most often.
Deni closed his eyes and recalled her face when she reached orgasm—the sound of her voice, and the way her body arched. It was all he needed to gain release.
Immediately he sat up in his bed and dumped his head into his palms disgusted with himself. “Glory be to Allah; praise be to Allah; there is no god but Allah; Allah is the Greatest. There is no power or strength except by the will of Allah. I ask forgiveness of Allah from all my sins and repent to Him,” he prayed.
Trying not to think or feel anything more, he stood and washed himself off with the water from the small sink in his room. He rinsed water over his face and felt the beard on his face. It was the first time he had given any thought to his appearance. I must look and smell like complete shit, he thought.
Deni slumped back down on his bed and imagined himself as one of those dirty, filthy vagrants who lust after the pretty young girls on the street. At nineteen, that is what I have become – a dirty, filthy vagrant.
The next day, Deni sat awkwardly before Marsha at the table in the interview room, twisting in his seat and biting his nails. Suddenly, he was very self-conscious of his appearance and the thoughts of lust that still filled his mind. “Can you get me a Quran?” he asked.
Marsha studied him carefully. She was well aware of his sudden shifty behavior and paused before answering. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“Why?” Deni exclaimed.
“If I get you a Quran and the prosecution uses it to demonstrate your fundamentalism to the jury, it could damage our case.” said Marsha.
“Fundamentalism, you know nothing. You’re just like all the rest with your ignorant prejudice. Don’t tell me you’re just like all the others who believe what your media tells you about Islam?” Deni stood from his chair and paced around the interview room biting his nails.
“Deni, I don’t care if you’re a warlock who practices black magic and cuts the heads off chickens. It is not my job to judge you, but to represent you and defend you. Once this trial is over, I will personally buy you a hundred Qurans and all the virgins to go along with it, but as for now, I think its best that we are prudent with your faith.”
Deni turned away disgusted. “Funny, if I were a Christian fundamentalist, there would be no problem. It’s unfair. I thought America boasted religious freedom.”
“Don’t give me that bullshit, Deni. You and I know better,” said Marsha as she studied his slumped demeanor. He no longer boasted a cocky appearance and she wondered what was going on inside. “What’s the matter with you? Are yo
u okay?”
Deni laughed. “Am I okay?”
“You’re not yourself,” replied Marsha.
“And how would you know? How do you know who I am?”
“How is solitary?” she asked.
He waved his arms in a dramatic gesture. “It’s great; it gives me the me time I’ve been so missing. I can get in touch with my feelings and really get to know myself…literally,” he said with heavy sarcasm.
“I’m not new to this Deni. I’ve dealt with many others who faced solitary. It is torture. So, talk to me.”
“Sure Marsha, it’s great to have someone to talk to now, but what happens when the trial’s over and I’m stuck there for the next fifty or so years of my life. Who’s going to talk to me then? If only I had a multiple personality disorder, then my personalities can enjoy each other’s company.”
Marsha chuckled. “What’s the deal with the Quran? This is the first time you asked for one since you’ve been lucid and talking.”
Deni returned to his chair. “I’d like to practice my faith; is that so wrong?”
“No. Why? Are you looking for excuses, or redemption?”
“I want to purify my mind, my body and soul,” he said.
“From what?” she asked.
“You’re not my shrink; you’re not even my clergy. You’re my attorney, so can we leave it alone?”
“I need to know your mental, physical and even emotional state in order to best defend you. If you hold back from me, I cannot do my job effectively for you.”
Deni circled around the room. “Can we please not talk about this?”
Marsha reclined and folded her arms over her chest. “It must be hard for a young man to be alone with certain needs.”
“Shut up,” he muttered.
“Deni, I have two sons around your age. Don’t think I don’t know. You’re nineteen; the feelings you have are natural,” replied Marsha in a mothering tone.
“But it’s wrong,” said Deni quickly.
“Having feelings for a girl, no that’s not wrong.” Marsha sat forward, resting her elbows on the table and watched him. “Maybe this is something you need to discuss further with Dr. Sodhi.”
“Fuck no,” Deni muttered. “I suspect she’d get too much of a kick out of seeing me suffer.”
“It is really discouraging to me that lust is what you suffer; it is rather self-indulgent,” said Marsha.
Deni lifted his head and stared at Marsha. “And that is exactly why I requested the Quran so I can purify the thoughts in my mind.”
“God damn, you’re exhausting,” said Marsha. “I’ll bring one in for you tomorrow.”
Deni was returned to cell after his meeting with Marsha. Sadly, it had only been a couple days and already it seemed like home. Maybe I can get a couple plants and a throw rug and it will really feel homey, he thought and then collapsed down on his cement bed.
He rolled over on his side and stared at the side of his cell—the desk, the toilet and sink. Although he had gotten what he wanted out of Marsha, he was haunted by her words. He never thought of himself as self-indulgent, on the contrary. According to Dr. Sodhi, he didn’t give much thought to himself at all. As he lay in his bed, he wondered about his contradictions, what it meant and how he came to this place.
It was a hot June day and the 2011 Reading High School graduating class melted in their seats, dressed in black cap and gowns in rows on the football field before a stadium of family and friends. Deni surveyed the crowds to see if he could find his parents. He couldn’t really make out anyone.
He rested his head on Heather’s shoulder as the student valedictorian gave their speech; it was boring as hell. While the valedictorian delivered their speech of reaching goals and dreams, Deni knew most of his fellow students would be standing in long unemployment lines. Many will not make sufficient money to support their families and would need to depend on welfare; others will find criminal means of making a living and most likely find themselves in jail. Why give false hope? he thought, but then he looked around and realized no one else was listening either.
“Why do you always put your head on my shoulder?” Heather said. “Why can’t I put my head on your shoulder?”
“‘Cause I’m sleepier than you,” he said.
“Don’t stay up so late,” she remarked quickly.
“How do you know I’m up late,” he replied.
Heather rested her chin on his head. “Because you’re texting me at midnight.”
Deni reached for her hand and played with her fingers. “I can’t sleep. I’m up all night thinking of you.”
“Bullshit!” she laughed.
Deni chuckled. “But you have to admit it was a good line.”
“It was a good line, just know your audience sweetheart,” she said. “It may work on all the other girls, but not on me.”
He lifted his head and gazed into her eyes. “What other girls?”
“Now that’s a good response,” she replied. “My folks are having a graduation party for mostly family and family friends later this afternoon. Do you think you can come by?”
“Am I family or a family friend?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said.
“Okay. I’ll try to make it.”
After the graduation ceremony, Deni returned home. Kamiila made a large dinner for the family in celebration, including many of the Daudov’s own family friends from the Islamic center. Kamiila raised her wine class to toast her son, “To our future doctor.”
Everyone raised their glasses to Deni. Deni grinned and raised his glass to the toast. “Thank you,” he said.
When dinner was over, everyone dispersed and moved on about their business. Family friends gave their congratulations and best wishes to Deni. Jamie tried to make up bonus points with Kamiila by helping with the dishes. In the living room Bashir and Mikail played with his new born baby Elena. His sisters and their respective boyfriends hung outside on the patio. Everyone left graduate Deni to himself.
“Ma, I’m going to go visit a friend. They’re having a graduation party,” he said.
Kamilla turned to him. “Don’t you want to spend time with your family?”
My family doesn’t want to spend time with me, he thought, but said, “I promised my friend I’d stop by.” He stepped toward Kamiila and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “I won’t be late.”
Deni stepped outside the Daudov house with a big sigh of freedom. Funny, I feel freedom from my family, he thought as he drove away, but parking outside the Atkins’ home caused Deni even more stress. There were more Mercedes and Lexus’ then he had seen in a car lot. It was obvious the affluence extended beyond the immediate family.
He got out of his dented Toyota, headed toward the front door and knocked. A handsome blond teenage boy answered the door. “Can I help you?”
“I’m Deni. Heather invited me,” Deni replied trying to hide his nervousness.
“Oh hey, Deni. Yeah, we heard all about you,” the teenage boy said. “Come on in.”
Deni walked inside and out to the back patio where it seemed that every person was a character in a Norman Rockwell painting. He felt like an eyesore and a blemish on a shiny American magazine cover.
Dr. Atkins immediately walked up to Deni and surprisingly handed him a beer. “Looks like you need to loosen up.”
Deni flipped open the tab. “Am I that obvious?”
“Painfully,” said Dr. Atkins. “You’re among friends here, not the enemy. I spoke to your parents at the graduation. They’re so proud you’re going to be studying medicine just like your father.”
Deni took a sip of beer and then shrugged awkwardly. “Actually I’m not studying medicine.”
“Oh,” remarked Dr. Atkins surprised.
“Yeah, uhm, I was accepted to Temple’s school of journalism,” replied Deni.
“Journalism,” repeated Dr. Atkins surprised.
“Yeah, you know. I hear TMZ, the National Enquirer and Yahoo are looking for
journalists,” said Deni.
Dr. Atkins laughed. “You mean you want to be a creative comedy writer.”
Deni grinned, relieved and loosened up to Dr. Atkins. “Actually, I’d like to be a foreign correspondent.”
“That’s impressive. Why journalism?” he asked.
“Well, to be honest with you Dr. Atkins, there is a lot of bull crap in the world and I’d like to cut it out. The world is lacking true journalists who actually care to write the truth,” replied Deni.
Dr. Atkins nodded. “That’s great! Good for you.” He put his arm around Deni and led him into the backyard. “Let me introduce you to the family.”
Deni glanced over his shoulder at Heather, who was talking with her mother and aunt.
A short time later Deni found some alone time with Heather. She put her arm around his waist and glanced up at him. “What did you say to win over my dad like that?”
“We were talking about journalism,” Deni replied.
“Huh. I really think you should tell your parents about your decision. Sooner or later they’re going to find out you’re not a doctor,” said Heather.
He kissed her on the head. “And ruin my mother’s dreams and delusions, heck no. I’ll just keep telling her all the lives I’m saving and she’ll be happy.”
The overhead lights of Deni’s cell dimmed and he knew it must be bed time. He gazed out the frosted narrow window of his cell. Yes, it was black outside. Laying on his side, memories flooded his mind like ribbons with no beginning and no end. He couldn’t escape them; the memories were like a tangled rope around his heart.
Deni rolled on his back and closed his eyes. When he opened them he had a vision of Heather on top of him, her blonde hair falling onto his face. The illusion was so real he could almost feel the softness of her hair. When he blinked she was gone and heartache set in with the realization he would be alone forever.
The Insurrectionist Page 13